"Do you have an agent?" The agent in the back seat was straightforward.
"No. Uh...I have no experience in this area." Song Ya answered truthfully.
"really?"
The agent didn’t believe it, "Who taught you to record this kind of knowledge?"
"I found a lawyer for consultation, and the advice he gave." Song Ya observed that the agent, Lori, was about fifty years old, with a touch of Mexican descent, and he was concise and decisive, smart, car-watching, and financially strong. It should be good too, just being arrogant and controlling people.
But the agent can help him with his income and career, his personality is all minutiae, and he is Lori's agent, and he seems to be Al's, knowing the basics, at least he won't be an outsider. I don’t have an agent, and I have no way out. It might as well just...
"Uh...you..." Song Ya thought about the stakes clearly, and then she couldn't speak up.
"Pablo."
"Okay, Mr. Pablo, can you be my agent?" he asked.
The two exchanged a glance in the rearview mirror.
"In principle, there is no problem, but before becoming your agent, I want to clarify one thing with you, copyright." Pablo said: "The music, it’s no problem with you, but the words, it’s best to let you Little Lori."
"Why?" Song Ya was surprised.
“The lawyer you are looking for doesn’t know much about the rap circle, whether it’s the old-fashioned style in the past or the later politics. Gangsters and rappers are either expressing themselves or expressing opinions on various issues. Early rappers are from the bottom and have no financial ability. Many of the accompaniments that are made are casually playing or simply sampling other people’s music, so it’s okay to own the song. But think about it, if the rapper’s expression is not his own, then it’s not the same who sings it. Anyway, there is no need for a high pitch or very good vocal skills in this industry. To be honest, the threshold is not high. If you don’t talk about what you want to sing, what is the difference with the idol singers of the big record companies? Rappers who can't lift their heads will be rejected and mocked by the whole circle."
Pablo said, "And the lyrics of your song have to be changed."
"Uh...uh..."
Song Ya’s upper lip touched his lips, and he stopped talking several times. He hadn’t thought that there would be such a problem before, but he knew very well that if the copyright of the word was lost, this part of the rights that should be allocated in the future must be gone?
"You think about it. UU reading www.uukanshu.com"
Pablo did not continue to put pressure on, picked up the Motorola brick and started calling, "Hey, old man! I need your saxophone... right now... it should be a big business... OK, we're done?... …OK, get downstairs to your house in ten minutes."
"Go to the old Morgan's house." After the call, he said to AK.
Ten minutes later, I received an old black man with a musical instrument box and dressed in the style of the 1960s and 1970s.
"Wow, wow, wow, dressed like this, old man, where are you going?" Pablo teased his bright pocket square on his chest.
"Isn't it... you said that there is a big business?" The old man widened his eyes. "Don't play with me, kid! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't go out so late."
"It's going to Old Joe, what do you think I will arrange for you? Restaurant accompaniment? Can your old bone work?"
"I have so many opportunities to perform! Now every venue is inviting people who can play the saxophone."
"I know, I know, you all have to thank Kelly King, you see, now such a small child uses a lot of saxophone accompaniment to compose."
"Go **** Kelly King, I don't thank him, my skills are ten thousand times better than him."
"Really? I've seen you play his tunes. At that time, I felt like you were about to die. I was really afraid that you would lie down on the spot."
"Fuck you, I'm talking about skills!"
Pablo and old Morgan lost a few words to each other, he was completely different faces in front of old friends.
arrived at the destination quickly, AK parked the car, Song Ya got off, and looked up and saw a tall sign ‘Old Joe Music Company’. The neon tubes were very dim, and a few letters were not illuminated.
Chicago 1990 Chapter 13: Old joe
Unlike Song Ya imagined that it is at the cutting edge of fashion and fashion, a narrow and thick iron door protects Lao Qiao’s music tightly. It seems that there is no doorbell. AK stepped forward and slapped vigorously, and the iron door was dull. The banging sound.
"Go buy some pizza."
Pablo took out a wad of money from his pocket, drew out a few sheets and handed them to the'silencer', "Bring some more drinks." He pointed to an intersection, "It will be there after two traffic lights."
The ‘silencer’ silently took the money and drove. At this time, the strip-shaped peep on the iron door flashed, and then a black man with tattoos on his face slouched the door.
"Hurry up, Carl."
Pablo complained, behind the door is an equally narrow staircase, he walked on the first one.
Karl fisted with the people who came in one by one, "My brother Alex, you can also call him APLUS." Tony introduced Song Ya to him, and Carl nodded, and the two of them would recognize each other if they fisted again.
"It seems to be a stuffy jar like the'silencer'."
Song Ya muttered in her heart, her attention was quickly attracted by the photos on both sides of the stairs. The photo frames were exquisite. The portraits of various people, whether in black and white or in color, mostly have obvious clothing from the 1950s, 1960s and even earlier. And photography style. Of course, they are all blacks, and Old Qiao appears most frequently, either in his youth or in his middle age. It seems that he was a small famous singer before.
"this is me."
Old Morgan pointed proudly at one of them, "Look, what a handsome guy."
The young man in the photo is indeed flourishing, holding the golden saxophone in front of his chest, and smiling brightly with his white teeth.
"Unfortunately, the age of the old jazz has passed..." Old Morgan hugged the saxophone box in his hands tightly, but the slight sentimentality lasted only a short time, "Damn rock, **** disco, **** rhythm and blues... "The gray-haired old man suddenly turned into an angry BOY scolding, blaming his personal failure on the course of history, "Damn Kelly King!" In the end, he refused to let go.
The second floor is much more spacious. Two posters taller than people hang in the hall. One is Old Qiao, who is impressive by Song Ya. He is standing in the middle with his arms outstretched. Four black aunts are hugged by him. They were all buckets like Aunt Susie's, and Song Ya didn't know any of them. The other one is Little Lori and Al. The little Lori at the visual center is slung with the guitar, holding the stand-type microphone in both hands, looking straight into the camera and playing cool. There are some rock star fans, Al can only lean over. , Holding a microphone in one hand and making hip-hop gestures in the other.
"It seems that Lori is the company's top card."
Song Ya has a clear judgment on the strength of'Lao Qiao Music'. Maybe it has been brilliant, but it is definitely not in the mainstream now.
"Call Al and let him come over."
Pablo snapped his fingers again, pointing to the fixed phone in the front desk, "At the fastest speed."
AK reached out his hand and picked up the phone from the front desk where no one was sitting.
Pablo continued to move forward, and stopped in front of a door with a sign in the recording. He put his ear to the door and listened for a few seconds, then twisted the handle and pushed it away vigorously.